


Beautiful noises

by Ivartheboneme



Series: Ivar [1]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Choking, F/M, Knifeplay, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 18:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10314002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivartheboneme/pseuds/Ivartheboneme
Summary: This is a reader-insert one shot, wherein Ivar takes matter into his own hands to make sure that he gets a birthday present that he actually wants.Please note that for all of my works that have sexual content, all relevant characters are at least 18 years old. If they are not yet 18 in canon, I age them up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work was created as a birthday present for ivarthebonelessx at tumblr.
> 
> A short list of words that might be useful to know...
> 
> Dunga: useless fellow
> 
> Haltu kjafti: shut up
> 
> þræll: thrall/slave

You sit down on one of the benches, exhausted from having run around all day to prepare for the feast. You allow yourself to close your eyes for a moment and have just started drifting off in thoughts about what might happen tonight when your pause is interrupted by a sharp voice.

“Tired already, (Y/N)?” Your eyes fly open and you hurry to stand up again. Queen Aslaug is glaring at you.

“N-no, my queen.” You stutter in response “I apologize. I haven’t slept well these past few nights.” Aslaug’s face softens; she knows that you’ve spent much time helping her youngest son lately and that he hasn’t been making it easy for you. Ever since the hunting accident the town healer has needed all extra hands that he can find. Once the old man had learned that your parents had been skilled in the area of medicine, and that you had trained with them before being taken as a slave, he had assigned you to take care of the youngest prince so that he could focus on the wounded hunters.

“It seems that prince Ivar is experiencing one of his episodes now, he will probably need your help several times a day.” The old man had explained. You had been horrified to hear this; Ivar isn’t exactly known for trusting new people, least of all when it comes to taking care of his legs.

“There are still preparations to be made. Go fetch some more mead, and stop by the kitchen to see how they are doing.” Aslaug says. You bow your head, thankful that you didn’t get a worse scolding, and hurry to complete your tasks. Once you’ve done what Aslaug asked for, you take it upon yourself to scrub the tables clean. It doesn’t demand much of your attention and you return to the thoughts that the queen’s sharp words had interrupted. Five days ago you had been sent to the room that Ivar shared with his brothers. You had been there before of course; to clean, change the bedlinen and such. The dark haired prince had never been there during those moments, though, and now you were expected to instantly earn his trust so that he would both show you his legs and let you out of there alive. The first time had almost ended with you getting hit by a mug that he had hurled at your head. His older brother, Ubbe, had been forced to intervene so that you wouldn’t get hurt and after a long argument between the two of them Ivar had finally let you rub his legs with the oil. You had repeated the procedure two more times that day. After the third time, the sun had set and you had tried to walk back to the slaves’ quarters but Aslaug had stopped you.

“Ivar might need your help during the night. You can sleep on the floor in my sons’ room.” She had snapped her fingers and one of the other slaves had handed you a blanket. You had curled up on the ground between Ivar’s bed and the wall. Aslaug had been right; Ivar had woken you up in the middle of the night by throwing a pillow at your head.

“Oil. Now.” He had growled and you had scrambled to sit next to him. He didn’t motion to lift the covers and you stared at him, not sure what to do.

“Do I have to do everything myself? Get on with it.” He had hissed at you. You had quickly pulled back the covers and gone to work. Ivar had let out a groan and muttered something.

“I-I’m sorry, my prince, I didn’t hear…”

“I said _at least you have softer hands than that dunga_.” You thought you'd pass out from the shock. _Did he just compliment me?_

“Oh, thank-”

“Haltu kjafti. Focus on getting it done instead.” You had made it until early in the afternoon the following day before Ivar called on you again. You had been serving the queen some ale when he came crawling into the great hall and barked at you to come help him. You had hurried to follow him to his room and looked away shyly as he took of his trousers.

“You’re much prettier than him too.” The comment had come out of nowhere and you had tried to act like you hadn’t heard it “A pretty little þræll, with soft hands. How did that happen? Usually your hands are so rough from work that I might as well rub my naked skin against rocks.” You had almost asked him if many slave girls had touched him like this but you had bit your tongue at the last second.

“I have only been here for a few weeks-”

“I know that, I’m crippled not blind.” He had snarled and you had twitched in fear of the rapid changes in his mood.

“The queen prefers to have me do other things than physical labour. She wants me to help prepare for your birthday feast later this week.” You had sputtered out. All his anger had vanished instantaneously and been replaced by a wolf-like grin.

“Is that so? How fortunate for me. I’ll remember to tell you what I want on my special day.” Each day he had grown more talkative. He had constantly switched between cruel remarks and suggestive comments and you had always found yourself unsure whether you should feel flattered or break down in tears. _He hasn’t told me what he wants yet_. A little voice in the back of your head whispers that you can’t be that stupid, that he’s already hinted at what he wants. You had tended to him early this morning, shortly before you had to start with the preparations in the great hall. Just as you had been about to get up from his bed he had grabbed on to you and yanked at you so that you ended up on your side next to him. You had gasped in shock, which had only made him snicker.

“I like it when you sound like that.” He had rubbed his crotch against you for a few seconds and then promptly let go of you and shoved you so hard that you almost fell off the bed.

“Make sure that it’s a good feast.” You hadn’t even tried to stop him, all you had done was let out that stupid little gasp and then let him rub up against you. Just thinking about it makes anger boil up inside if you but it also sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. Someone walks into the great hall and you snap out of your thoughts.

“Is everything ready for tonight?” Ubbe asks.

“Soon, my prince. I have just been to the kitchen and they are nearly done.” He nods in approval.

“Good. He will be here in an hour.” You want to ask him where Ivar is now; he had slithered past you and out from the great hall while you and the other slaves were busy with carrying benches inside and you hadn’t seen him since. Ubbe walks past you on his way to their room and you hurry to speak up.

“Do you think he will need more help with his legs before the feast?” He turns and comes back to you.

“Not at the moment, he is doing much better today.” Suddenly, Ubbe snatches one of your hands and cocks his head to the side “Maybe not so strange; you _do_ have much softer hands than that dunga.” You pull your hand from his loose grip that is clearly not meant to hurt you. _Ubbe heard that?_ He chuckles at your embarrassment.

“My brother has been much more manageable today; keep doing whatever it is that you’re doing.” He leaves you again, having made you even more confused and oddly excited for tonight. His words make it difficult for you to focus on your chores and before the hour is up you’ve been scolded again. Nevertheless, you manage to complete all your tasks before Ivar arrives. He crawls inside, with Hvitserk right behind him, and makes his way to the high table. The second his body lands in the chair, he calls for you.

“(Y/N), give me something to drink.” The girl that had been about to pour him some mead stops in her tracks and looks up at you, both confusion and terror evident in her face. You pick up another pitcher and walk to Ivar’s side. He silently gestures for the girl to go serve someone else while you fill his cup. When you try to step away from the table he tugs at your dress.

“Haven’t you forgotten something?” He asks, his voice deceitfully soft. You tilt your head slightly forward to show your submission.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” He smiles at you, then leans back in his chair and lets go of your dress. More and more people stream into the great hall and you find yourself constantly manoeuvring between the crowd and the tables, as you balance both platters filled with food and pitchers with drink and try not to spill anything. You glance over at Ivar from time to time and see that he and Ubbe are wrapped up in what looks like a very private conversation. When you approach the high table for what feels like the hundredth time, you notice that Ivar isn’t sitting there anymore. You place another platter of meat in front of his brothers and Hvtiserk is just about to help himself to the best piece when Ubbe swats his hand away. He places the piece of meat on a plate and shoves it in your hands.

“Take this to Ivar, he’s talking with Torstein.” You stretch your neck and sweep your eyes over the hall. _There._ You walk over to Ivar and Torstein and offer Ivar the plate; he accepts it with a light smirk.

“Is everything to your liking, Ivar?” You ask nervously.

“No.” Your heart sinks “There is too much people here; I’d prefer to celebrate in a more private setting.” He continues and flashes a devious grin. You feel your knees start to shake as you search you brain for a clever response. Ivar’s grin only widens as he sees your insecurity and he is about to speak again when you are saved by his mother calling to you from the high table to come fill her cup. You scurry to Aslaug’s side and do as she bids. Then someone else asks for a refill, then someone else and someone else…you find yourself further and further away from Ivar but you feel his presence; he looms over you even though you’re at the opposite end of the hall. You are on your way to fill the pitcher again when he waves you over.

“(Y/N), sit with me for a moment.” He pats at the bench.

“Oh, I don’t know if I can just..someone might need me…” You mumble.

“You were assigned to take care of me, correct?” He phrases it as a question, but the tone makes it clear that it isn’t.

“Yes.” You whisper, your throat dry.

“Then come sit next to me. I can feel my legs start to stiffen so I need you to stay close.” You step around the table and sit down on the bench, slightly hunched over. Ivar turns back to Torstein and continues their discussion; something about Ivar wanting to make a new axe and Torstein saying that he can come by the smithy at any time. You feel a light touch right above your knee and you sit up straight.

“What is the matter now, þræll?” Ivar snarls, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. You plant your gaze firmly on the opposite wall to keep yourself from melting before him.

“Nothing, my prince.”

“Then sit still; I will be very annoyed if you keep jumping like that.” He turns to Torstein once more and his fingers travel further up your leg, occasionally pausing to let his thumb draw small circles over your dress. You can feel heat forming in your core and start to pulsate through the rest of your body. At first you are determined to not respond to his advances, to not encourage this childish man who thinks he can have anything he wants without a fight; but then his hand makes a quick advancement and cups your sex. You can’t stop it; a loud squeal escapes from your mouth.

“Quiet, you are disturbing us.” Ivar hisses, again with amusement glistening in his eyes. Ubbe saunters over and sits down next to you but he doesn’t speak; he only smiles at you briefly and then turns his gaze forward. _What is he doing?_ Ivar’s fingers start to alternate between pressing at your folds and gently sliding over them. Your legs start to tremble at the pleasure he is giving you. You can no longer ignore the voice that’s been whispering to you about what Ivar wants as his present; it can’t be long before he wants to take you to his bed and then you will have to stand up and walk past the high table. Then a thought flashes through your mind; how are you going to hide the wet spot that has to be showing at the front of your dress, once Ivar tells you to stand up? You ball up the fabric of both your apron and dress in your fists and try to look unfazed. This goes on for another minute or two, then Ivar grabs on to your right hand, forces it away from your dress and places it over his cock. Your eyes widen and it takes all your willpower not to squeal again as your hand is pressed to his hardening member. You try to make eye contact with Ubbe but he simply looks the other way.

“Can you feel it, (Y/N)? I definitely think I’m getting stiff.” Ivar says in a concerned voice and grinds his hips a bit to make his cock press harder against your hand. Before you can answer he releases you again and raises his voice.

“Ubbe, my legs will need tending too soon. I have to finish my discussion with Torstein; make sure that she is waiting for me in my room.”

“Of course, you need to be well so that you can enjoy the rest of the feast.” Ubbe answers with a gentle smile. He stands up and reaches his hand out for you to take. You swallow hard and motion to grab one of the pitchers of mead from the table, thinking you might be able to hold it in front you. _It will look strange but rather that than jeering comments from everyone at the high table_. Ivar raises his eyebrows when he sees what you’re about to do.

“What are you doing?” He asks while letting his hand slide over the inside of your thigh again. You cower at his sharp tone.

“I thought you might get thirsty while I treat you.” You whisper.

“How kind of you. But I have water next to my bed; the mead can wait until we’re done.”  You nod and let go of the pitcher again. Your hand trembles as it is enclosed by Ubbe’s rough fingers. You rise to your feet and follow Ubbe to the back room. Thankfully, everyone at the high table is too occupied with talking and laughing to pay notice to you as you walk past them. Ubbe guides you into their shared room and motions for you to sit down on Ivar’s bed. After you’ve done as you’re told, Ubbe sits down next to you. You recoil and move further up the bed.

“Are you going to undress me for him too?” You hiss. To your surprise he breaks out in laughter.

“No. I asked him about it and he said that I might not be able to stop myself from taking you first if I did. I just want to look at your hair.” You narrow your eyes at him, not understanding what he’s getting at.

“He prefers it when you wear it down” Ubbe explains “so I would change that if I were you.”

“Why?” You asked, voice dripping with venom.

“To make him happy. He deserves to have at least a few happy moments in his life; don’t you agree?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“Wait with undressing until he gets here.” Ubbe rises from the bed and walks out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. For a moment you consider just rushing past Ivar once he shows up, and back to the great hall, even though you know that there’s no point in doing so. You quickly look don on your dress and are glad to see that the spot is not visible on your apron. You hear a shuffling noise and low voices just outside the door. He’s here. You realize that you still haven’t changed your hair and you start undoing the two braids but find it to be a difficult task with your now very unsteady hands. The door opens and Ivar crawls inside. He drags himself to the side of the bed and looks at you expectantly before pulling himself up to sit next to you. Then his eyes fall on your halfway undone braids and his face changed. It was a strange look, one that you had never seen Ivar display before; sadness.

“Didn’t Ubbe tell you what to do? Change it.” Anger flares up inside you.

“You can’t bed a woman without your brother’s help? Are you so stunted that you can’t even talk to me yourself?” You snarl at him. Ivar is stunned by your brazen words, but only for a split second. His face contorts in rage and before you can react he grabs on to you and turns you over so that you’re on your stomach and pressed to the bed. He twists your arms behind your back and shuffles to sit on top of you. His weight presses you even further down in the bed and you have to turn your head to the side to be able to breathe. He guides one of your arms between your side and his thigh, using his upper leg to keep your arm still and out of his ways. He repeats it on your other side and once both his hands have been freed they move up your spine and finally end up entangled in your hair. Ivar seems distracted and you use the opportunity to try and get free, but he has you pinned down. He lets out a deep sigh as he feels you squirm underneath him.

“Be still.” Then his hand start to move through your hair in a familiar way. _He's undoing the braids_. His movements are much rougher and sloppier than your own, but you can feel that that’s what he’s doing. The shock of this realization is enough to make you stop fighting back and you simply let him continue. Once he’s done he wraps his fingers around the end of your hair and tugs at it as if he’s testing his handiwork. He seems satisfied because he releases his grip on you and sits down next to you again. You hurry to sit back up and stretch your numb arms. He watches as you lift a hand to feel at your hair, still in shock at what he did to you. He slips his hand under the apron and places it right above your knee.

“It would’ve been better if you had done it, but you forced my hand.” He says and starts moving his hand up your leg. You move to slap him away but in the blink of an eye he has produced a knife in his other hand and he presses it flat to your cheek. The sensation of the cold blade on your skin makes you shiver.

“Be still. I don’t want to cut your face.” He whispers. Ivar’s eyes are focused on the hand that’s wandering over the inside of your thigh. His fingers fan out and they stumble upon the small spot at the front of your dress. He lets out an amused chuckle.

“You tried so hard to hide how much you liked it, but here’s the proof.” You want to tell him off, but he’s not wrong; you had enjoyed it. Ivar copies his movements from earlier and it doesn’t take long before you let out a low moan. _Shit, he wants me to be quiet_. You expect him to snap at you again but instead he smirks at you. He pulls away from you again.

“Do you want me to continue?” You nod reluctantly in response “Then you'll have to undress. Go on, on your feet.” You stand up and start to pull at the strings that are keeping the apron in place; his eyes burn right through you as it falls to the floor. You reach your hands down and pull the dress upward. As the back of your thighs become exposed you hear Ivar let out a hiss. Then the knife is gently touching against your skin again. You freeze for a moment, your hands still clutching on to the fabric. Ivar grunts angrily and presses a bit harder.

“Keep going.” The dress falls on the ground and you try turning to face Ivar, thinking that he'll want you to undress him. He stops you. Ivar drags a finger down the back of your thigh, his nail scrapes against your skin and leaves a red mark behind.

“What are...” A sharp pain shoots through your body and you cry out. Ivar's knife is tracing down the mark left by the nail and you can feel your blood starting to run down the back of your leg. He growls and drops the knife on the floor. His hands make their way to your bloodied leg and they hold it still as he leans in to lick away the warm liquid. His tongue soothes the pain and you relax again. The cut is very shallow and it doesn't take long for him to clean away the blood; you're a bit disappointed that his tongue will soon be gone again. But to your surprise, he continues making his way up your body and you can't keep yourself from mewling as his tongue continues to touch against your skin. When he reaches the small of your back he lets one of his hands slide in between your legs to probe at your folds. You can feel him smile into your skin when he finds you soaking wet.

“I think you are ready for me now, aren't you?” He says in a low voice. His exploring mouth has effectively washed away every last drip of pride from you and you drop your eyes to the ground; he can do whatever he wants.

“Yes.” Ivar moves further down on the bed, lifts the covers and waits for you to get under them. Once you've settled in he starts to tug at the lacing on his tunic and you automatically look away.

“Watch me, þræll.” You lift your gaze again and watch in silence as he reveals his perfectly sculpted upper body; you can feel your legs start to shake again as they had done when he touched you out in the great hall. Then he crawls under the covers next to you, his trousers still laced up. He shifts to make sure that his legs are completely covered before unlacing his trousers. You feel a pang of sympathy. _I've already seen them many times but he still can't show them before taking me. He thinks I will change my mind if I am reminded_. Ivar finally manages to free himself of his trousers and positions himself over you but he doesn't move to press inside you. He turns his head to the side and you can see his jaws tense. You lift your hips to press against him, hoping that it will reassure him. You let out a small _oh_ as your thigh brushes against his cock; he's not as firm anymore. He looks back at you, his face full of disappointment. You make a snap decision.

“Cut me.” Ivar's eyes blow wide.

“What?” You slowly grind yourself against him and take great care to speak clearly.

“We both enjoyed it. Do it again, and I bet you'll rise to the occasion.” His mouth falls open at your words and the sight makes you even more aroused; you've left Ivar the Boneless speechless.

“Turn.” He orders once he's snapped out of his initial shock. You let your hips sink back down and shift so that you're on your stomach instead. He is no longer hovering over you and you can hear a rattling noise as he tries to reach the knife that's still on the floor. Ivar lies down next to you again and pulls away the cover. His fingers sweep back and forth over your exposed back in search of a place to mark with his blade. He makes up his mind and you moan as you feel the sharp pain again when the edge drags over your skin. This time the blood has barely started to run before Ivar latches on to the mark with his mouth and starts to suck at it eagerly. You bury your face in the pillow in an attempt to muffle your whimpering, but Ivar is having none of it. One hand reaches up and grabs onto your hair, then yanks at it to force your head up from the pillow. He lifts his head from the mark and places his mouth right next to your ear.

“I want to hear you.” He hisses before pressing his lips to your cheek and smearing it with blood, resulting in a wave of pleasure that you'd not mind drowning in. He keeps his hand on your hair to make sure that you don't hide your face again as he returns to licking at the cut. He's growing stiff again, you can feel his length press against your leg. You move your leg carefully so that your calf rubs lightly against his cock. Ivar groans into your skin and presses himself closer to you, his mouth becomes more greedy. _I can't take this much longer_.

“Please, Ivar...now.” You pant. He heeds your plea and allows you to turn on you back again. You spread your legs and welcome him inside you, whimpering softly as he enters. Once he is sheathed inside you he strokes your bloodstained cheek and locks on to you with his impossibly blue eyes.

“That was such a beautiful little noise you made when I cut you. But I wonder...” He taps at your nose “if I can make you gasp like you did this morning.” His hand moves to your shoulder and holds on tightly, then he presses a kiss to your forehead and starts thrusting. You wrap your legs around his waist and let your hands explore his muscles as he plunges inside you. You offer up plenty of noises while Ivar and you move together, but not the one that he desires the most. You are completely occupied by the waves of pleasure that his movements are creating and so you have completely forgotten what he had said about making you gasp. Then Ivar's hand lets go of your shoulder and slides closer to your throat. Your eyes widen in surprise as you feel his fingers brush over your throat but you don't stop him. He presses down lightly; both to test your reaction and to see if it will result in that beautiful noise that he craves. You let out a raspy noise as the air struggles to make its way through your throat. His lips part slightly in awe as he looks at the hand around your throat and it's almost enough to push you over the edge. Ivar loosens his grip again and strokes his finger over the side of your neck. He gives you a moment to recover and then makes a new attempt. This time he presses down harder and a similar sound escapes from between your lips. Ivar releases you again and shakes his head.

“It's still not right.” He murmurs “I want to try again; harder.” You find yourself unable to speak, your body and mind exhausted by this whole ordeal, so you only nod in response. Ivar wets his lips and wraps his hand around your throat again. He presses down hard enough to completely deny you air and you instantly arch your neck. He leans in to inspect your facial expression up close and then tilts his head slightly so that his ear is right next to your mouth; and he lets go of your throat. You gasp as the air rushes through your throat again and Ivar spills his seed with a loud growl. The feeling of his liquids inside you combined with the look of utter awe on his face is the last straw and your cunt clamps down on him as you crumble underneath him. Ivar stays sheathed inside you, his head resting at the crook of your neck, until you've both calmed your breath. He looks up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Did you know” he starts slowly “that tomorrow is also my birthday?”


End file.
